


Something I Don\\\\\\'t Know

by unknowableroom_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Drama
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-01-27
Updated: 2007-01-27
Packaged: 2019-01-19 06:38:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12405027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unknowableroom_archivist/pseuds/unknowableroom_archivist
Summary: Pre-DH. From the cradle to the grave, we are battered and beaten, shaped and sculpted. Delve beneath the surface and appreciate humanity; truly, deeply, painfully.





	Something I Don\\\\\\'t Know

**Author's Note:**

> Note from ChristyCorr, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Unknowable Room](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Unknowable_Room), a Harry Potter archive active from 2005-2016. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after May 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Unknowable Room collection profile](http://www.archiveofourown.org/collections/unknowableroom).

**Kisses.**

Cold, his kisses are cold and calculated. Organized, even. He plans his seduction like a military operation. There was never anything spontaneous about being courted by Lucius Malfoy, but then I’ve never been fond of surprises. I suppose in a warped way, Lucius is perfect for me. We fit together like pieces of a puzzle – he gives and I take. It’s perfect and fitting: but it’s boring.

_Boring._ That’s how I’d describe his kisses. Always predictable and always the same. He’d never come up behind me and kiss my neck, or mess his hands in my hair like I’d have liked him to. His left hand on the nape of my neck, his right on my waist, he’d lean in and capture my lips. Like clockwork, mechanical, that’s Lucius down to the ground. Organized, predictable, boring.

He was late, you know. He had said he’d be home hours ago. I had been waiting there for two and a half hours – waiting for my predictable kiss. Not so predictable, it would seem.

_He’s not coming._

I was a Black woman. I don’t allow nerves and imagination to scare me.

_He’s not coming._

Of course he is. He’s gone to the Ministry with some friends of his, some old Death Eaters, that’s all. He’ll be home anytime. He’ll give me my kiss. For however mechanical it is, I still wait for my kiss.

_He’s not coming._

An owl flew through the window. A message I rip from its leg. A few words _…life imprisonment…Fortress of Azkaban…Death Eater…_

A tear crept into my eye and I wiped it away angrily. I’m a Black woman. I don’t cry.

**Kisses.**

‘Kiss me.’

I laughed. ‘Never.’

He narrowed his eyes. ‘Kiss me now.’

‘Why should I?’ I asked coyly and cutely.

‘Because I want you to.’

I raised my eyebrows. ‘That’s no reason at all.’

‘It’s a reason. It’s not a very good reason, but it’s still valid.’

‘True.’ I answered shortly.

‘So do I get a kiss?’

‘No.’

I frowned comically, his whole face grotesquely squashed. ‘Hmm. What about if I were to kiss you? Would that be acceptable milady?’

I put a finger to my chin, all quasi-pensive and girly. ‘I’ll get back to you on that.’

‘When?’

I kissed him. ‘Now.’

**Kisses.**

‘Narcissa, _darling,_ oh you look _beautiful._ ’

I had long since disciplined myself not to roll my eyes when Asela approached. The first time I had firmly reminded myself that she had no daughters and was likely to be excited by the prospect of receiving one, but by the time I was to be married I had lost any sense of self-discipline and allowed myself to whole-heartedly despise the woman. I simply contented myself with the knowledge that this was the worlds most aptly named woman.

The script with my very-soon-to-be mother-in-law never wavered. After declaiming my beauty she then went on to tell me how well I’d fit into the family. _Why, in looks you could almost be one of us already!_ And then, of course, the omnipresent _And, of course, it shan’t be long before you begin thinking about starting a family, shall it not?_ A silent nod from Abraxas, a quick, impersonal kiss on the cheek and she was always gone.

Lucius had never seemed fond of his mother, an unusual trait – Malfoys were infamous for having a strong Oedipus streak. He would snarl and sneer whenever she came close, I saw him shudder when she reached up to press her pursed lips to his sharp jawbone. He was close to his father, they would laugh and joke and share advice, and I tried to avoid mentioning Asela to him. I myself had never warmed to Abraxas. He had a slithering appearance – weak-looking and entirely too thin for a rich man. I confess myself to have been unashamedly pleased to see him die and smiled silently through his funeral.

Abraxas and Asela did not seem to have an easy marriage. She was entirely too foolish for him – he had, unusually for a Malfoy, attended a Muggle institute of Higher Education, shunning his family’s remarks, and had left with a cynical approach and a strong knowledge of philosophy. They would stand, at family occasions, stiffly, his hand offensively on her shoulder and her face told the world what he thought of her. I would look at them and look over at Lucius and a shudder of fear would echo through me.

‘Good luck, my dear.’ Asela had returned. ‘And welcome to the family.’

I took a step down the aisle, breathing heavily.

**Kisses.**

‘Cissa…’

I looked up, irritated. ‘Oh, it’s _you._ ’ I tried to inject as much hatred into the word as I could. As he stepped even further into the room, I realized it had not been quite enough.

‘Have you ever… _kissed_ a boy?’

I looked appraisingly at my cousin. ‘No.’

‘Oh.’ His face fell. I had taken the wind right from his sails. Then his lip twitched. ‘Have you ever… _wanted_ to?’

‘No. Sirius, if you want me to kiss you then the answer is no.’

My cousin’s face was the picture of revulsion ‘That is _disgusting_ _._ ’

‘I know.’ I smiled my smile.

He frowned again. ‘I just…wanted to know what it was like.’

I gave up. ‘I don’t know what it feels like and I’m not going to tell you and I’m not even going to talk to you. I don’t like you. My parents said so.’

His face, only three months older than me, aged twenty years. ‘What on earth do you mean?’ It was a most un-Sirius-like phrase.

I told him the truth. ‘I mean that my Mamma told me that you are a bad person and your parents don’t like you and that I was to avoid speaking with you if I can. And I can. So I will.’

I swept from the room, leaving a stunned Sirius. As I was about to run off, I turned back quickly and popped my head round the door. ‘My sister says kissing is wet.’

He nodded slowly.

**Kisses.**

Just a note, Asela means ‘donkey’, which is what Cissa meant about Asela being well named. Hope you enjoyed this chapter – I know it’s short, but Cissa tends to be a woman of fewer words than Lily. (Hark at me, making excuses.) Anyhow, reviews are love.

Much love, Angelxx 


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